


To the Ends of the Earth

by Sunny_Strange



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, based on the B99 scene with Doug Judy and Jake on the boat, canon divergent from halfway through season 2, chasing and being chased, they are idiots in love and its great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27477391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunny_Strange/pseuds/Sunny_Strange
Summary: Pulled by the unexplainable magnetism between them, Eve directly disobeys Carolyn and goes to personally investigate Villanelle's latest kill in Amsterdam. When the two spot each other through the window of a brothel, an epic chase ensues."I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, Villanelle!""I love you too, Eve!"
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 28
Kudos: 158





	1. A Speedy Getaway

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the B99 scene of Jake yelling out to Doug Judy, "I will hunt you to the ends of the earth!" and Judy replying with, "I love you too!" and just had to write a Villaneve version. I hope you guys like it!

For Villanelle, the shift happened when she was stabbed. As the sharp point of her own knife, driven by Eve’s surprisingly strong hands, pierced her abdomen something bloomed inside her. Of course that something was quickly smothered by white hot anger and the animal instinct for survival, but once emotions like that are released they simply refuse to be stowed away for long. What was once obsession, lust, and a cure for boredom shifted into something more, something genuine. 

It was completely accidental of course. Villanelle hadn’t expected her play thing to fight back, especially not so expertly, and she certainly didn’t foresee the effect that that fight would have on her. Eve was supposed to be a little something fun to occupy her time, maybe just a way to scratch the painful itch of loneliness until their encounters inevitably ended horribly. But now, Villanelle finds herself here with this strange, growing feeling in her chest that she has absolutely no idea what to do with. Historically, her go to reactions have been centered around murder so who knows, maybe there is still time for things to end horribly after all. 

For Eve, the shift wasn’t as obvious. Looking back she thinks maybe it was the stabbing too, or maybe when she heard “Eve Polastri, you piece of shit!” in a thick, distressed Russian accent. But the truth is, that the shift had been happening slowly this entire time. Every sideways glance, every scrap of information, every heart pounding meeting opened the door just a little farther for genuine feelings to worm their way inside Eve’s heart. Those feelings, the something more, have their hooks dug deep into Eve’s skin, even though she isn’t ready to admit it yet.

Love is sinister like that. It disguises itself as anger, intrigue, and thrill, and by the time you figure out what is happening there is nothing you can do about it.

There’s nothing that they can do about the unexplainable magnetism between them either. It’s what leads Eve to Amsterdam despite Carolyn’s explicit instructions to focus on the Ghost and it’s what keeps Villanelle staring out a prostitutes window waiting for Eve. There’s this tugging in their chests that they simply can’t ignore. They know it will only be a matter of time before they crash into each other’s orbits again, and they both have a deep need to speed that process along.

Villanelle is not sure how long she waits but  _ finally _ she sees an unmistakable mass of unruly black hair exit a cab. Something unnamable swells in her chest, making Villanelle’s heart race and a little squeal of excitement leave her lips. Subconsciously, Villanelle reaches out and strokes her fingers over the still rather angry scar on her abdomen. Every time she touches it she’s transported back to the bed with Eve, except her mind plays out a very different ending. 

It’s not long before Eve reemerges from behind the bright yellow caution tape that seals off the crime scene. Villanelle’s hand instinctively reaches out for the other woman, smashing her palm against the cold glass of the window as if it wasn't there. “I knew you would come for me, Eve.”

There’s no way Eve could have possibly heard, but still, the agent snaps her head up. There’s a shiver down Eve’s spine and she can’t explain it, she never can, but she just knows Villanelle is close, knows that she’s watching. That sends another kind of shiver all the way down to Eve’s toes. It’s the combination of watching and then being watched, cat, mouse, and then cat again, that is driving her mad in a wonderful way.

Eve darts her eyes around the surrounding buildings until they land on the bright red door of the brothel. Slowly, she looks over crumbling stone up to the third floor and directly into the second window from the left. Hazel and chocolate eyes meet and, in perfect unison, wide smiles spread across both of their cheeks. 

Villanelle’s grin is all fake innocence and honey. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say “oops” and smiles even wider She pulls her palm off the glass and waggles her fingers at Eve tauntingly. Eve can’t help herself. She raises her hand and waves in response, but then, in the blink of an eye, Eve’s smile is gone and she is running. 

Villanelle waits until Eve is inside the building before sprinting too. She thinks of it as a gift to Eve, a little head start. Not that it’ll make a difference, but it’s the thought that counts right?

“Thanks for the view!” Villanelle yells over her shoulder as she runs out of the room with an extra, excited spring in her step. She takes the stairs two at a time and skips the last four all together. Heavy, frantic footsteps can be heard coming up from the flight below so Villanelle takes a hard left and runs to the end of the hallway. 

This will be her second fire rescue escape recently and Villanelle briefly laments on how predictable she is becoming. Still, she swings herself out of the window and onto the rusty ladder just as Eve reaches the second floor. 

“Villanelle, stop!” Eve yells, as if that would actually make a difference. 

Villanelle just laughs and waves again before descending the ladder as fast as she can. The thrill of being chased is proving to be just as powerful as the thrill of being the chaser. Her feet hit the ground hard, having jumped the last few rungs, and she needs a brief second to regain her balance. More indistinguishable yelling from Eve is enough to prompt Villanelle into motion again. 

The streets of Amsterdam pass her by in a blur as she runs. She glances over her shoulder periodically, delighted to see Eve keeping up, even if she is wearing an ugly greenish grey winter coat. Villanelle decides she’ll just have to buy Eve some more clothes with her next bonus. 

“Give it up, Eve! I am very fast and you are so old!”

Eve yells something back that sounds an awful lot like, “You little shit!” but Villanelle can’t be 100% sure. It makes a hearty laugh escape Villanelle’s lips as she rounds the corner towards her goal. There it is, the murky green waters of the canal. 

As if planted there just for her, a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair is untying a small speed boat from the dock. Perfect timing! Villanelle closes the distance between her and the man in seconds, and before he can even register what is happening, she pushes him into the cold water below. He lets out a scream that sounds very similar to a small child’s, and it is swiftly followed by an even louder scream from Eve. 

Villanelle jumps down into the boat and quickly goes about setting everything up for a speedy get away. Just as the motor revs to life and pushes the boat several feet away, Eve reaches the end of the dock. She’s panting and red in the face as she grips the railing with white knuckles and leans over the edge, seeming to make calculations for jumping but deciding better of it. 

“It was good to see you!”

The propellers spin, kicking a spray of water up over the man struggling to get back to the ladder of the dock. Eve scowls and her eyebrows crinkle together in frustration as she slams her fists against the wooden railing. 

“I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, Villanelle!”

“I love you too, Eve!”

The words seem to shock both of them but Villanelle manages to quickly gather her composure and play it off with an air of confidence and amusement. She tips her head back, letting laughter roll from her lips to be drowned out by the increasingly loud sound of the engine. Villanelle watches as the emotions on Eve’s face go on a journey from confusion and surprise to settle on what Villanelle briefly recognizes as hope. The hope in Eve’s expression is more shocking than the revelation that she actually meant every word. 

Villanelle is in love with Eve, and maybe, if that look was any indicator, Eve is in love with Villanelle too. Oh yes, Villanelle thinks to herself as she speeds through the canal of Amsterdam towards the sunset, this will most definitely end horribly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming on this ride with me! If there's interest I'll write more chapters so please let me know!


	2. Tag, You're It!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken and they want more! Who am I to deny?

Eve is on an official, government sanctioned timeout. Carolyn was pissed to say the least, though not surprised, after Eve’s impromptu trip to Amsterdamn. Especially since she returned empty handed. The fact that Villanelle had been so close only to slip through her fingers seemed punishment enough, but Carolyn was determined to add insult to injury with one week of forced leave. Yelling and humiliation in front of her coworkers would have been far preferred to this torture of endless bordom and too much time to think. 

Carolyn had assumed that time away from the office would encourage Eve to take a break from crime scenes and psychopaths. The senior agent had hoped that spending time with Nico might make Eve reevaluate some of her recent life choices and hopefully enable her to return to work with a clear head, ready to hunt down the Ghost. It doesn’t happen often, but Carolyn was entirely wrong. 

To be fair, whether Eve is at work or at home her brain seems to be consumed by thoughts of Villanelle. When she’s showering, eating, during every conversation, and especially as she lays in bed at night staring up at her ceiling trying and failing to fall asleep, all Eve can think about is cat like hazel eyes gazing back at her. Those all encompassing thoughts have only been amplified since their encounter at the Amsterdam canal four days ago. 

Eve can’t stop hearing the words replay over and over again in her mind. “I love you too, Eve.” It’s been on a constant loop since that day. Was it just another game, a trick used only to toy with her? That seems to be what most things are to Villanelle, a tool of manipulation used to get what she wants, but something about this interaction was different. It was something in the tone of her voice, something about that brief flicker of something deeper across her eyes,. Eve feels like her brain has turned to mush from analyzing it so many times. 

She closes her tired eyes in frustration and rubs her palms over her forehead. Eve is exhausted. Chasing a professional assassin all over the world and then developing feelings for that previously mentioned assassin would do that to anyone. However, at the same time, Eve has never felt more awake. 

Villanelle excites Eve in ways she never thought possible. With every new development, every glance and sigh and twirl of her hair, Eve feels a building of anticipation and an overwhelming need to know everything. She’s always had a rather mechanical mind, determined to take things apart, discover how they work, and put them back together again, but every time she thinks she understands a bit of the inner workings of Villanelle the infuriating woman finds a way to turn the tables. Mostly by doing insane things like yelling I love you out of the blue as she flees the crime scene of her most recent murder.

Eve squeezes her eyes closed tighter and tries to turn her brain off for the 100th time this week. Just as she is finally making progress and about to drift off to sleep for the first tie in 24 hours, the wretched doorbell rings. Groaning, Eve drags herself to her feet and trudges to the door. She doesn’t bother looking through the peephole, which is rather careless for someone probably wanted dead by a global crime syndicate, but Eve is simply too tired to care. She swings the door open with a creak to reveal nothing but a large, brown box complete with a red bow.

Instantly, Eve knows who it’s from. Her spine stiffens straight and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She glances frantically around her neighborhood for any sign of a delivery truck or beautiful woman disappearing down the road, but the whole block is eerily still and silent. The pounding in her chest increases until it’s the only sound Eve can hear as she picks up the box and brings it inside to place it on the kitchen table.

Eve’s hands are trembling from excitement as she rips the lid off the box. She doesn’t want to be this eager for more contact with Villanelle, yet here she is practically drooling over it. Tissue paper falls to the floor, revealing a luxurious winter jacket, single rose, and a small card. Eve’s eyes go wide as she takes it all in. 

The distinct scent of Villanelle’s perfume wafts up from the open package, making Eve actively resist the urge to bury her whole face in it. It’s absolutely intoxicating. Eve runs her fingertips over the soft, flawless fabric, marveling at the texture before jerking her hand away.

She takes a few deep breaths to compose herself and steady her shaking nerves. Once she’s sure she won’t drop it or perhaps wrip it to pieces, Eve picks up the card. It’s a glossy coated postcard of tall, pastel colored buildings overlooking a peaceful canal. Big, bold letters spell out Amsterdam across the front making Eve smile despite herself. She flips the postcard over to reveal Villanelle’s familiar, looping script: 

TAG Eve, you’re it! 

V xo

Eve is torn between rolling her eyes and jumping for joy, though neither seem quite appropriate for the situation. She should call Carolyn. She should report this, bring in the evidence for analysis and then come home and go back to sleep. Instead, Eve puts on the jacket. She wraps herself up in it’s warmth and breathes in the heady scent of Villanelle’s perfume until her mind is swimming with it. 

She reads the postcard another dozen times, adding its words to the loop of Villanelle encounters currently living rent free inside her brain. Tag seems like a challenge, so do most things with Villanelle but this is more clear. The assassin had the last word in Amsterdam and she’s saying it’s Eve’s turn. She’s it, but Eve doesn’t even know where to begin.

With a light sigh, Eve places the postcard back in the box and runs her hands up and down the coat fabric with appreciation before putting them to rest in the pockets. It's a barely there sensation, but something is brushing against her left little finger. Eve yelps in surprise and digs the item out of her pocket. 

It's a scrap of paper torn haphazardly on all four edges. The only things on it are a phone number and a bright red lipstick kiss. 

xxx

It’s been four days since Villanelle’s encounter with Eve in Amsterdam and the nervous, excited, almost manic energy hasn’t left her yet. She’s practically buzzing, bouncing around on her toes everywhere she goes, unable to keep still for more than a minute. Who would want to keep still anyway when there are such wonderful prospects brimming in the hopefully near future? 

The future was never something Villanelle really thought about before. On the few occasions that she had, she quickly spat out the idea like it was over chewed bubble-gum sticking to her teeth. A future implied some larger plan, some form of direction or goal, things that aren’t quite tangible for those in her line of work. Her future had always taken on some amorphous, shadowy shape with bright red splotches and dark black holes. Now, when she thinks of her future, all Villanelle can picture is Eve. Really if she tries to think of anything at all her thoughts eventually wander to Eve; which probably means that Villanelle is thoroughly fucked.

That unusual combination of buzzing energy and contemplation is how Villanelle finds herself here, pacing along the Thames river with a strawberry ice cream cone in one hand and her phone in the other. Konstantin had explicitly told her not to go back to London while he arranges their next job, and yet here she is. Villanelle just couldn’t stay away. The magnetic pull of her connection with Eve is just too hard to resist.

Between licks of ice cream Villanelle is obsessively checking her phone. She laid the breadcrumbs, now all she has to do is wait for her little mouse to come along and eat them up. Unfortunately, Villanelle has never been very good at waiting and Eve has proven herself to be more of a cat than a mouse. It’s all too much for Villanelle, the waiting and the feelings that come along with it. She’s going to jump out of her skin from it.

Villanelle sighs heavily and leans against the railing of the small bridge she’s stopped at. She takes another bite of her ice cream and stares down at the swirling black water below. The sudden urge to jump in or push someone else in like she did in Amsterdam sends tingles all the way to her toes, but that would mean dropping her ice cream, which is simply unacceptable. So, she decides that she has until she’s done with the frozen treat to decide what to do.

As fortune would have it, right as the dessert is finished and a mere minute before some poor passerby found themselves plummeting into frigid waters just because Villanelle doesn’t know what to do with herself, her phone rings. An unknown number flashes across the screen in bold letters and Villanelle is equally disgusted and delighted with the way her heart jumps at the sight of it. Her fingers tremble and she bounces back and forth between her feet as she waits with bated breath for it to go to voicemail.

The second the recording is done Villanelle presses the phone to her ear and hits play. At first there is only a sigh from the other end, but that alone makes Villanelle bite her lip and squeal with excitement. Finally, after what feels like forever but is really only thirty seconds, Eve’s exasperated voice greets Villanelle’s waiting ears.

“Of course you wouldn’t answer your phone, you dick. Why are you always so difficult?” Eve sighs again and Villanelle lets out an amused chuckle. She can’t deny it, she is rather difficult. But then again, so is everyone else in their own way. Villanelle is just more obvious about it than most.

“Anyway, I’m not even sure why I’m calling. I just… I guess thank you for the coat? It’s chic as shit. But just so you know, there was nothing wrong with my old one and you’re still a dick.”

There’s another long pause and Villanelle finds herself inadvertently holding her breath. When Eve talks again, her voice is somehow colder and softer all at the same time, revealing another layer of Eve for Villanelle to try and dissect. “And I meant what I said in Amsterdam. I’m going to find you no matter what it takes. There’s no other way this can end. So, see you soon Villanelle.”

“See you soon, Eve.” Villanelle whispers back into the empty space between them as the recording ends. 

On the other side of the line, from her comfortable couch in the living room that she shares with her husband, Eve still grips her phone tightly in clammy palms. She presses her forehead against the metal and closes her eyes. “Did you mean what you said in Amsterdam too? Because if you did… God, if you did I am so fucked.” Eve knows she was pretty fucked from the start, but the ever building something in her chest is making itself more apparent with every passing minute. 

Both women, who are miles away from each other, press their fingers to their lips and laugh in unison, hoping that the “soon” in reference is much sooner rather than later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this wasn't quite as fun as the first one but I needed it to set up some stuff for later chapters. I'm having a lot of fun with this and I hope you are too. You can expect some real shenanigans in the near future. Please let me know what you think and if you like the direction this is going!!!
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who read, liked, and commented on the first chapter!


	3. Addicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hop you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! And again, I can't thank you guys enough for the continued support <3

It’s 3am and the city of Barcelona is bustling with lights and laughter. From her room on the second floor of a fancy yet quaint hotel, Villanelle can hear typical Friday night festivities through her open window. The city is still awake and so is she, though for very different reasons.

Typically, Villanelle would be out prowling the busy streets in search of anything at all to spark her interest. But since Amsterdam, since a particular hospital bathroom really, Villanelle has been unable to find interest in anything not related to Eve Polastri. Expensive clothes, luxury rooms, and other women with curly, thick hair soften the edge of her longing momentarily, but Villanelle feels the sharp pull of Eve so strongly tonight that she can’t sleep.

Closing her eyes in frustration, Villanelle balls her hands into tight fists in the sheets and takes a few steadying, deep breaths. Her hit this afternoon had gone flawlessly, just like every other assignment Konstantin has given her for cheating husbands and shady businessmen. She misses the higher stakes and theatrics of her job with the Twelve, but the money is good in freelance and she has more freedom. _Freedom_. It’s the only thing more precious and elusive to Villanelle than Eve.

Villanelle hates nights like this, nights when she can’t stop thinking. Her skin crawls and the pit in her stomach that she so often fills with blood and money seems endlessly hungry for things that she can’t have. Things like freedom and Eve. 

With a fit of aggravation, Villanelle throws off the duvet, kicking it angrily until it lands in a pile on the floor. The gentle breeze from her open window cools her heated skin, but it’s not enough to chill her simmering annoyance. Villanelle gets up and walks over to the window to stare out at the bright lights below. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the sill, thinking about how much she’d rather be in London right now, thinking about how much she’d rather be with Eve. Even if that means running, chasing, and getting stabbed again. Their game is just so delicious despite, and probably because of, the risks. 

But it’s more than a game now, isn’t it? Villanelle closes her eyes and sees beautiful, dark brown orbs staring back at her. Yep, definitely more than just a game. Still, Villanelle can’t help but want to win.

As if summoned by her thoughts alone, Villanelle’s phone buzzes. She can’t help the shiver of excitement and race of her heart as she plucks it from her night stand and sees a text message from Eve. Villanelle wonders why the other woman is up so late, but the answer is obvious isn’t it? Eve can’t stop thinking about their little game either.

 **Eve:** Is this even you Villanelle? Stop being a dick and answer me. 

Villanelle laughs and smiles widely down at her phone screen. She hasn’t called or messaged Eve since listening to the voicemail by the Thames. It took all of her self control not to blow up Eve’s phone, but some things are worth waiting for. Eve was it after all, and Villanelle wanted to wait and see what the agent’s next move would be. Texting at 3am is not what she expected, but it seems like as good a place as any to start. 

**V:** Hello Eve. Why are you always calling me names? Have I not been anything but wonderful to you?

The response is immediate which only widens Villanelle’s smile. 

**Eve:** No actually, you’ve been everything but wonderful.

 **V:** Maybe. But you like me anyway.

Eve’s lack of response is answer enough. She does like Villanelle and they both know it. Villanelle just isn’t sure how deep that like goes. Is it morphing into love or at least something that could be mistaken for love? Does Eve feel it deep in her gut like Villanelle does; like it’s some sort monster clawing its way out? Villanelle is absolutely dying to know.

 **V** : So, now that we’ve established that you like me, why are you up so late? 

**Eve:** For the record, I don’t like you, but I can’t sleep and for some reason I knew you’d be awake too.

 **V:** I’m only up because I can’t stop thinking about you. 

A long moment passes with Villanelle holding her breath and anxiously awaiting a response. It’s a new feeling for her, the anxiety. Then again, every feeling Eve brings out in Villanelle is new for her. When she first got into this line of work, Villanelle shoved whatever shreds of emotions she had left deep down inside until she completely forgot what this felt like. Being a ruthless assassin and being in love are not generally compatible, but Villanelle has never been one to accept limitations. 

**V:** I’m always thinking about you Eve. It’s not fair. 

**Eve:** Nothing in life is fair Villanelle

Villanelle’s fingers hover over the screen as she bites her lip and contemplates her next move. She flops down onto the bed, spreading herself out like a starfish and staring at the fluorescent light of her phone. This game is much more fun in person, when she can see all the little micro-expressions that cross Eve’s beautiful features.

 **Eve:** Where are you?

 **V:** Where do you wish I was?

The little voice in the back of Eve’s head shouts, _HERE,_ but she swallows that down and forces herself to type something else.

 **Eve:** I should never have texted you...

 **V:** No, probably not, but you just can’t stay away from me.

Eve wishes with all her heart that Villanelle was wrong, but she isn’t. Eve knows what’s good for her, knows that whatever this is between them is certainly not it, yet she can’t help herself. She just can’t stay away, and her resolve to keep pretending like all she feels for Villanelle is hatred is quickly crumbling.

 **Eve:** Goodnight Villanelle

 **V:** Awe, bed so soon? I thought we would have a little more time to flirt first.

 **Eve:** You really are the most annoying person I know. Now, goodnight!

 **V:** Fiiiinnneee, goodnight love. Have sweet dreams of me.

Neither women get any sleep at all.

xxx

Over the next few days, Eve checks her phone more than she has for the entirety of the past year. Every little notification makes her heart race with the mere possibility that it’s Villanelle. She doesn’t tell anyone about any of it, but Eve is practically bursting at the seams from her nervous, excited energy. Her coworkers notice of course, but when questioned Eve just claims to be happy because they’re close to catching the Ghost. 

They are actually getting close. Her and the team at MI-6 narrowed down the suspect pool, identified potential next targets, and compiled a list of people with motives to hire an assassin for the victims. The one thing standing in their way is Aaron Peele. He’s spoiled and defiant and seems determined to impede their investigation at every turn, and quite frankly Eve just doesn’t like him. 

Eve is on her way to his office for another meeting that she's sure will prove fruitless when her phone finally buzzes with the text she has been waiting for. She can’t contain the little excited rush of air that leaves her lips or the goosebumps that spread to cover her arms.

 **V:** You text me once at 3am and then not again for days? Rude.

 **Eve** : I’m not rude, I was just proving you wrong. You said I couldn’t stay away but you’re the one who texted me first so HA

 **V:** Don’t be so proud of yourself Eve, just because I am addicted doesn’t mean you aren’t too.

Addicted, that really does feel like the right word. The swagger, cocky attitude, mischievous grins, the unabashed look of desire behind hazel eyes, and the pure, unbridled power of Villanelle all comes together to create this perfect drug designed just for Eve. And wow, she is hooked.

 **Eve:** Maybe, but I’ve been busy with work.

 **V:** Doing what? I haven’t killed anyone for a few days.

 **Eve:** You aren’t the only murderer out there you know?

 **V:** No, but I’m the best! And I’m the only one you should be interested in.

Eve smiles as she imagines the pout that is most definitely covering Villanelle’s beautiful face.

 **Eve:** I guess you have some competition. 

It’s a full minute before there is any response and Eve spends that whole time chewing her nails nervously. She knows her words would set Villanelle off, but she can’t possibly imagine the amount of glass that is being shattered right now in a small but chic, newly purchased London flat. Once Villanelle has gotten the initial boiling anger and distress out of her system, she smooths out her dress and picks up her phone again.

 **V:** Competition? Please Eve, you know no one will ever excite you or understand you like me. No one will ever love you like me. 

**Eve** : Villanelle…

 **V:** I’m going to commit atrocities at the National Gallery’s charity gala tonight. What a shame it would be if you came and tried to stop me! I promise I’ll remind you just how interesting I am. 

**V:** Oh, and wear something nice ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for atrocities!


	4. Dancing Through Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the extremely long wait for this one! Unfortunately, despite my best efforts to social distance and always wear PPE, I got COVID. I work in the healthcare field in the USA so it was really only a matter of time, but the virus knocked me on my ass for a good 3 weeks which is why this update took so long. COVID made my brain feel like scrambled eggs and I'm still not 100%, but I really wanted to finish this so I tried my best for you guys.

Eve wasn’t going to tell Carolyn, especially not after the response she got for going to Amsterdam, but then Eve came to her senses and remembered that someone’s life is literally on the line. Atrocities for an assassin can really only mean one thing- that someone is going to get assassinated. So, Eve canceled her meeting with Aaron Peele and scheduled one with her boss instead. 

It went fairly well, considering Eve had to explain exactly how she has been in close personal contact with an international assassin wanted by every government agency in the world. The why on those actions is a little more complicated so Eve chose to leave that part out. Carolyn wasn’t exactly surprised or particularly angry, just disappointed, which everyone knows is far worse, but she was quickly able to see the potential upside in this. In no time at all, Carolyn had hatched a plan to trap Villanelle at the gala with Eve center stage as the hero. 

Eve should have been thrilled about getting off with basically a slap on the wrist instead of another suspension or worse. She should be even more thrilled that this could be her opportunity to capture The Demon With No Face for good. Instead, Eve mainly feels nervous. Perhaps even more nervous than she was on her wedding day. Villanelle has never given Eve an invitation outside of the form of a dead body before, so this feels special. This _ is _ special and new and dangerous and exciting in all the ways that it shouldn’t be, hence the nerves.

That’s how Eve finds herself here, pouting at herself in her full length mirror and wondering what the hell she is going to wear. This is the problem Eve chooses to focus on out of the hundred laid out at her feet, clothes. Kevlar is not flattering on anyone! It compresses your curves and adds the equivalent of at least two winter jackets worth of bulk to your torso. Carolyn had insisted Eve wear it for her own protection during their hastily planned sting operation tonight, but it is proving impossible to look elegant with a bullet proof vest on. 

Pros: not dying if getting shot, life saving material requested by employer. 

Cons: won’t look as sexy for Villanelle.

Clearly, the cons drastically outweigh the pros. Eve rips the velcro straps free and throws the kevlar to the floor with exasperation. She sighs and fluffs her hair in the mirror, making sure her curls are loose and free around her shoulders, and tries to justify her decision to take off the vest. Surely Villanelle would have been able to tell? The sneak attack won’t work if Villanelle expects something is up. Yes, that’s the real reason Eve took off the kevlar, to protect the integrity of the mission, most certainly not because she cares what a psychopath thinks of the way she looks. Nope, definitely not that at all...

It’s another hour before Eve deems herself ready for the event, and just in time too because she hears the car Carolyn sent to collect her honk outside. Thankfully she doesn’t have to explain any of this to Nico. It would be next to impossible to reason away why she’s dressed up like she’s about to walk the red carpet for a “work event” but he is out for the night with friends.

For the length of the car ride to the gala, Eve fidgets nervously in her seat and tries in vain not to think about why she cares so much more about a murderer than her husband. She hasn’t dressed up like this, hasn’t really put the effort in, for Nico in quite a long time. Not that he puts in the effort either. They both fell into a dull, dreary, safe, comfortable routine without intention, but the difference is that Nico loves their little nothing life together while Eve now feels suffocated by it. With Villanelle, a woman who has never been safe or dreary for a single second of her life, Eve feels wide awake.

The implications of that are heavy on Eve’s shoulders as the car finally pulls up to the gala. However, once she steps out into the cool evening air everything but a nervous buzz is shocked away. She hurries past flashing lights along a glittering silver carpet to the large glass doors of the National Gallery.

A man in a tuxedo holding a clipboard steps in front of the door before Eve can open it. His accent is notably Russian but monotone and his face is expressionless. “Name and invitation.”

“Uh, Eve Polastri…” Saying you’ve been invited by an international assassin with a hit somewhere inside this gala just won’t do. “Oh, um, I’m with MI-6.” Eve scrambles to dig through her clutch looking for her identification card. Seconds before the contents can spill out onto the ground, Eve freezes. The baby hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but not from flight or fight, it’s from excitement. Villanelle is here. Eve can sense she’s close.

A moment later an intoxicating aroma overwhelms her senses unlike any she’s experienced before. If power had a smell, this would be it. It crashes over her like a wave, quickly followed by a head rush. Eve grins down into her clutch and keeps still as she waits for what she knows is coming next.

She doesn’t have to wait long. A gentle hand with slender fingers emerges from the periphery of her vision and softly covers Eve’s wrist. How can a hand that has committed so many sins be so beautiful and soft? Eve shivers at the touch and briefly imagines what else those hands might be capable of. 

“It’s okay, Ivan. Eve is with me.”

“Of course Ms. Astankova.” After a quick dip of his head, Ivan steps aside and opens the door for them.

Eve lets Villanelle lead her inside and over to a quieter, less occupied corner of the building. From there they have the perfect view of all of the other guests, London’s elite, ranging from business executives to celebrities to trust fund babies with so much money that they don’t know what to do with it. The whole affair is over the top, obscenely glamourous, just the kind of venue Villanelle would love to make a scene in.

“You look beautiful tonight, Eve.” Villanelle is standing far too close, looking far too good. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun sitting high atop her head while two loose, perfectly curled strands hang down in front of her ears to rest on her exposed collar bones. The black suit she’s wearing is perfectly tailored of course, and the sheer blouse underneath leaves little to the imagination. Eve has to ball her hands into fists to keep from reaching out, grabbing the lapels, and opening up the suit jacket all the way. “Did you dress up just for me?”

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure I look good when they photograph me leading you out of here in handcuffs. It might even make the front page.”

Villanelle arches an eyebrow as a crooked grin covers her red painted lips. “You want to see me in handcuffs?” The blonde grips Eve’s wrists, teasingly running her fingers up and down over the sensitive skin. “I thought it would have been the other way around.” 

Villanelle is so close that Eve is sure the assassin can hear the pounding of her heart. Villanelle’s breath falls warm against Eve’s cheek making pleasant shivers shoot down her spine. Between the closeness, the cologne, the touch, it’s all too much. 

Eve does her best to stifle a gasp but it ends up escaping as a whine which is objectively worse. She goes to yank her hands away but Villanelle suddenly grips tighter, digging her nails in just enough to sting. Eve’s eyes go wide and she stops struggling as she gasps again at the sensation.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.” Villanelle says with a deep chuckle and knowing grin as she drops Eve’s hands. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her eyes dart around the room, giving away that she enjoyed that a little too much too. “Anyway, I’m glad you could step away from whoever else has been occupying your time. I’m sure by the end of the night you’ll forget all about them”

“Jealousy isn’t a good color on you, Villanelle. Especially when you have nothing to be jealous about.”

Villanelle grins widely. Her white teeth are practically shining and appear almost unnaturally sharp. She’s an apex predator, looming over what she thinks is perfectly positioned prey. “Nothing to be jealous of? I’m still all you can think about. You told me in Paris, the day that you stabbed me, that you think about what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with, what I’m eating for breakfast and what I feel when I kill someone. You said I consume you. Is that still true?”

Eve stands straighter under Villanelle’s wolfish gaze. She’s a predator too, in her own right, but she’s tired. Tired of lying and pretending and wanting. Besides, if Carolyn’s strike team is as good as she claims, this may be the last time she gets to have a conversation with Villanelle not in an orange jumpsuit. So, Eve opens her mouth and lets the truth come out with a small sigh. “Yes.” 

Without her mind’s consent, Eve reaches out and gently cups Villanelle’s cheek in her palm. The assassin’s eyes widen in surprise at first but quickly soften as she leans into the touch. 

“You’re all I think about all the time. I wish I didn’t but…” Eve doesn’t know how to verbalize the rest. How can she possibly begin to explain just how much of herself is now irrevocably tied to Villanelle?

“You can’t help it. Neither can I. There’s something special between us and I know you feel it too.”

“God, I need a drink.” Eve lets her hand fall and smiles at the almost imperceptible way Villanelle tilts her chin to get contact for one second longer. “A strong one.”

“Gin and tonic right?”

Eve is slightly concerned that Villanelle knows that little tidbit of information but she just nods her head yes. “What is your drink of choice?”

“I prefer to keep my head clear. Alcohol clouds your judgement, makes you slow. But if we were somewhere just you and I where we would have all night together with no interruptions, I would like very expensive, very good champagne.”

Eve laughs as she recalls the small refrigerator from Paris filled with only the finest bottles of bubbly money can buy. She had smashed them all. 

“Would you like that?”

“What, champagne?”

“No, would you like being alone with me all night?” There’s an almost childlike hope and excitement flickering across Villanelle’s hazel eyes. She retrieves Eve’s drink from the bar and lets her hand linger on Eve’s fingers as she passes over the glass. 

Eve takes a long, deep drink, letting the alcohol burn her throat on the way down. “It didn’t end so well for you last time we were alone together, are you sure you want to risk that again?”

Villanelle plays with the fabric covering her scar as she bites her lip. Eve wants nothing more than anything to lift up the shirt and see for herself the evidence of her violence. 

“I think you have learned your lesson. You will not hurt me again, not like that anyway. No, the way you will hurt me next will be far, far worse.” Villanelle grips the fabric tightly before letting it go and looking down at Eve with an almost conspiratory smile. “I think it will be worth it though.”

“I don’t know. I have a history of being a huge fucking disappointment.” Eve tips back the rest of her drink and slams the glass down on the counter. She glances down at her watch and is surprised to see just how much time has passed. When she’s with Villanelle, time seems to move differently. It’s either a hurried blur or slow motion, there is no in between.

“Come on, I want to dance with you Villanelle.” This is the trap, get Villanelle to the center of the dance floor by 11pm. Given that Eve lost track of time and it is now 10:45, she has to hustle. But Eve finds that she really does want to dance with the beautiful woman in front of her. She closes her eyes briefly and imagines a different world, a little tea room with soft music and dim lighting where she and Villanelle can be together without any other context. The picture nearly breaks her heart.

“I don’t dance, Eve. Besides, I’m here on business, remember?” Villanelle’s eyes flicker to a group of men laughing loudly and drinking too much to be socially acceptable at such a posh event. 

“Whichever one of them you’re here to kill will still be here after one dance.” Eve intertwines her fingers with Villanelle’s and gives a gentle tug. “I thought you were here on business  _ and _ pleasure.”

The dance floor is dotted with couples, some clearly trying to show off but most in attendance are simply swaying back and forth to the soft music from the live pianist. Villanelle’s eyebrows furrow together as she watches the other couples, clearly trying to look disinterested. 

“Please, Villanelle. Don’t make me beg.”

“I want to make you beg for other things, not this.” Eve rolls her eyes and tries to ignore the building anxiety in the pit of her stomach. “Tell you what, I will make you a deal. If you tell me a secret about yourself I’ll dance with you. But it has to be a good one! Something no one else knows, okay?”

“Deal.” Eve replies with a sigh of relief. “Once, in the tenth grade, I stole my mom’s car and got in an accident. I hit a light pole and broke my left arm.”

Villanelle looks amused but she shakes her head no. She trails the tip of her index finger down the curve of Eve’s jaw, over the ridge of her collar bone, and down to settle on the center of Eve’s chest. “Though I do eventually want to hear more about that, I meant a secret from in here.”

Eve knows instantly what Villanelle wants to hear but isn’t sure how to say it. Instead, darker words that she had tried to forget come bubbling out in a harsh whisper. “I almost pushed a random man off of a train platform the other night. I didn’t know him and I had no reason to do it other than something inside me told me to. I think… I think I wanted to feel closer to you.”

Villanelle’s hazel eyes light up with what can only be described as pure elation. She takes a deep breath, sucking in all the air in the space between them and leaving Eve breathless. For a moment Villanelle is silent. Her eyes wander over every inch of Eve’s face, devouring every little expression and nervous tick until, finally, she leans in. Villanelle’s soft lips brush against the shell of Eve’s ear, causing sparks to radiate through both of them.

“I knew it; we are the same, Eve. One day you will do it and you will never look back.”

“Maybe.” Eve whispers. “But right now all I want to do is dance with you.”

“A deal is a deal.”

Villanelle squeezes Eve’s hand and leads them through the crowds to the dance floor. She falters for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping onto the oak boards. The nerves are a new dimension to the assassin and Eve finds her heart aching even more because of it. 

Soft yellow lights drift over the pair, illuminating Villanelle’s hair and Eve’s dark eyes. Everything around them melts away as the music plays. They fit together like a perfect puzzle. Sharp edges and soft curves coming together like they were always made to be this close. Eve closes her eyes and breathes in that amazing cologne and the sweet scent of honey blonde hair and feels a twist of regret in her gut. 

She rests her head on Villanelle’s shoulder, keeps her eyes closed, and holds on just a little tighter. Despite everything, Bill, her marriage, her job, Eve doesn’t want this to end. Chasing Villanelle around the world has been the most alive she’s ever felt in her whole life, and Eve knows that she will never experience this kind of excitement with anyone else. She knows it’s wrong and selfish and makes her more than a little morally corrupt, but if Eve is being totally honest with herself maybe she has always been a monster too? Meeting Villanelle was just the catalyst that her own monster needed to break the chains holding it back. 

“Eve, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“You think too much.”

“I know.” Eve replies with a small chuckle. She lifts her head up to find hazel eyes looking down at her with genuine concern. “I’m fine. It’s just… Why me? Why did you pick me?”

“There is no picking, Eve. The heart wants what it wants. You are the first person to make me genuinely feel something in such a long time. I can’t control-”

Villanelle is interrupted by a loud hacking that echoes throughout the gala. All of the guests stop what they are doing to turn towards the distressed sound but Villanelle just smiles down at Eve. Eve quickly scans the crowd to find the source of the coughing that is getting worse by the second. Finally, she spots the group of very drunk men that Villanelle had indicated contained her target. Two of them are doubled over, clutching chairs for support while concerned guests begin to crowd around them.

“Villanelle, what did you do?”

The assassin reaches into the inside of her jacket pocket and reveals a small pill vial. “Arsenic tablets. They dissolve totally in alcohol and take a little over an hour to reach full effect. I spiked their drinks with it before the party even started.”

“You mean there was no way I could have stopped this?” Eve looks frantically back and forth between the men who are now coughing up blood and Villanelle. She knows she should feel horror at what is happening to them but she just feels confused and conflicted. 

“No, they were dead before you even got here. There was nothing you could do, just like there is no way you can stop what is happening between us.”

“But I want to! God, I want to hate you! I want to tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“But?”

“But I don’t…” Eve replies weakly. She drops her head, letting her curls spill across Villanelle’s chest. 

A gentle finger tips her chin up and Villanelle is looking down at her with understanding. “Like I said, we don’t get to pick who we love, Eve.” 

“But I did pick this, didn’t I? I followed your trail of bodies around the world. I put my job at risk, I ruined my marriage, and the worst part is that I would do it all again in a heartbeat because for some god forsaken reason I love- You have to leave.”

“What?” Villanelle pulls back in shock and disappointment. Her eyes dart over Eve’s alarmed expression searching for answers.

“You have to leave! Right now. Carolyn has a team here to take you in. You need to run while you still can. They’re going to move at any second!”

“Don’t you know it is rude to bring other people on a date?” Villanelle’s expression is unreadable at first but the edges of her lips curve up into the slightest smile. “Finish what you were going to say and then I’ll leave.”

“Villanelle, there’s no time for this!” The coughing in the background intensifies and more and more concerned yells pierce the bubble they are in at the center of the dance floor.

“Then I guess I’m in for a painful evening.”

Glass shatters behind them, making Eve jump but Villanelle doesn’t even flinch. She raises an eyebrow expectantly and puts her hands on her hips. Eve slams her palm against Villanelle’s shoulder. Her heart is pounding and her hand is shaking.

“You’re such an asshole! I fucking hate myself for it but fine, I love you!”

Villanelle is a force of nature when she moves. One hand twists itself through Eve’s curls while the other wraps around her waist, pulling Eve impossibly closer. “I love you too.” The assassin grins from ear to ear before crashing her lips to Eve’s. The kiss is needy and powerful and demanding, practically bruising but oh so heavenly. Eve’s knees buckle from the sweet shock of it but Villanelle’s strong arms are there to catch her.

They both moan simultaneously as greedy hands and lips take more and more. They are so caught up in each other that they can’t hear the increasing screams of panic and heavy footsteps behind them. Eve’s brain can’t form any other thoughts but,  _ I should have done this sooner _ . 

If it was up to them, they would stay like this until the end of time, completely wrapped up in each other, but it’s the sound of a gunshot that finally forces them apart. They pull back, breathless, and lean their foreheads together. 

“That’s my cue.” 

Eve grips the lapels of Villanelle’s suit jacket tighter and leans up on her tiptoes to steal one more quick kiss. “Hurry.” Out of the corner of her eye, Eve sees more MI-6 agents swarming in through shattered windows. ”Stay safe.” 

“I always try.” Villanelle replies with a wink. She pulls a handgun from its hiding place against her side and clicks off the safety. For a split second her confidence dissolves and Villanelle looks nervous. “Find me again, Eve. Please. I’ll send you clues once it’s safe.”

“I’ll always find you, Villanelle. I’m going to chase you to the ends of the earth, remember?”

“God, I love you.” Villanelle steals one more searing kiss, leaving Eve breathless before taking off sprinting. 

She weaves through the scrambling crowd effortlessly, firing over her shoulder as she runs. Ivan is suddenly at her side with a gun in each hand covering their escape. The pair make it to the fire exit but before she disappears into the night, Villanelle turns back to face where Eve is still standing, frozen to the dance floor. With a cheeky grin, Villanelle winks and blows her lover a kiss. 

“To the ends of the earth, my love!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, this got away from me a little bit. I genuinely don't know how what started as a meme on tumblr turned into almost 10,000 words but here we are! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the story as a whole. I had a really hard time writing this finale because of COVID so please let me know what you think. As always, thank you for reading and giving me your support, it really means the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming on this ride with me! If there's interest I'll write more chapters so please let me know!


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